MARRIED TO THE BILLIONAIRE

Katrina pov ****************************** The bedroom was entirely too quiet, the kind of silence that makes the ticking of the wall clock sound like a pounding hammer. I sat on the edge of our bed, my hands tightly gripping the edge of the mattress as my husband, Cove, loosened his tie. I hadn’t gone to work today. A stubborn, exhausting fever had kept me under the duvet all morning, leaving me alone with my thoughts. But the real headache didn't start until Cove walked through the front door, dropped his briefcase, and sat beside me with a look of mild bewilderment on his face. "What Stacy?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly as I tried to process the words that had just come out of his mouth. Cove blinked, looking at me. "She just walked up to me at the office today. She smiled and said, *' her name is Stacy, my wife namesake, came to the company today.'* I thought she was just making a weird joke, but then she started asking around about the staff roster." she is said she is in need of a job in the company A cold dread pooled in the pit of my stomach. *I hope this is not what I am thinking.* My mind spun backward, racing through the chaotic events of the past year. Stacy. The woman who shared my name, but absolutely nothing else. The woman who had cornered me months ago, frantic and desperate, begging me to step into her shoes. She had pleaded with me to pretend to be her, to walk down the aisle and marry Cove just to cover up a massive scandal she had entangled herself in. I had done it. Against my better judgment, I had played the part, woven the lie, and somewhere along the way, the fake marriage became entirely, beautifully real. I had genuinely fallen in love with my husband, and he with me. And now, after everything had finally settled into a peaceful reality, she was back. "After she begged me to pretend to be her..." I whispered under my breath, the anger beginning to flare through my feverish exhaustion. "After she begged me to get married just to cover her tracks... now she approaches my husband? What does she really want?" " Hey, are you okay?" Cove asked, reaching out to cup my cheek. His palm was warm against my cool, clammy skin. "You look pale. Is the fever getting worse?" "No," I said, shifting slightly so I could look him dead in the eye. "Tell me exactly what happened, Cove. What did she say? What does she look like to you?" Cove sighed, trying to recall the interaction clearly. "Well, I asked around after she left my office. The team said she’s tall. Very statuesque." He paused, looking at me carefully, as if navigating a minefield. he said he continues she is quite tall,fine body, great style... but she’s not more beautiful than my wife." A small, breathless laugh escaped my lips, though my heart was still hammering against my ribs. "Really, my love? Is that what *you* think?" "Yes, babe," Cove said without a second of hesitation. He leaned in, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to my forehead. "To me, nobody compares to you. But that’s not the strangest part.""What is?" "She didn't just stumble into the building by accident," Cove explained, his expression turning serious. "He told me—I mean, the hiring manager told me—that she actually came to the corporate headquarters today to apply for an open position. She’s trying to get a job in the company." The words felt like a physical blow. Today of all days, the one day I didn't go to work because I was not feeling fine, she decides to show up. Now, my husband was sitting right in front of me, telling me she saw my name on the company directory. She knew I was there. She knew exactly whose life she was stepping back into. "I don't understand," I muttered, staring blankly at the wall. "After running away to Paris for two whole months... she suddenly just comes back? Out of nowhere?" Cove wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his chest, but my mind was already miles away. As I leaned into his warmth, the silence of the room flooded over me again, and I started asking myself endless, exhausting questions. Why now? Why, after sixty days of absolute radio silence across the Atlantic, did she choose today to reappear? When she fled to Paris with a boyfriend, she made it seem like she was running for her life, leaving me behind to clean up the wreckage of her identity. I had built a real life out of her discarded lies. I had found a home in Cove's arms. Did she want her identity back? Did she want her name back? Or worse—did she want the husband she had forced me to marry?